


Old Habits Die Hard Holding On

by RositaLG



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Brief allusions to violence, F/M, Miscommunication, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 19:56:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9623144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RositaLG/pseuds/RositaLG
Summary: Phryne didn't have to fly away with her father and Jack escorts her home after Dot's wedding. But, nothing could ever be that simple, could it? Rated for allusions to past violence and a sociopathic serial killer.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I happened to be almost done with a story that fit right into the February trope challenge. Fate or just more martinis? Who can say? This one is a bit darker than previous stories posted.

Phryne woke slowly, memories from the night before filtering into her conscious like sand through fingers. She smiled softly as she realized that she had fallen asleep next to Jack and she sought him out beside her but found nothing there. The crinkle of paper underneath her fingers stopped her heart. She opened her eyes just enough to see the note lying on his pillow. She reached for it tentatively, unsure of what it meant. Had he regretted their actions the night before? Was he running scared again? 

The note was hastily written (not that an untrained eye could tell the difference with his penmanship) and Phryne read it with bated breath.

_ Major break on an old case and lives are at risk. Nothing less would call me away from you. I might be a few days but I promise to make it up to you when I return.  _

_ I love you.  _

_ Jack _

Phryne’s heart skipped a beat before she read the note again. It was the first time she had seen the words in writing and it affected her more than she thought it would. 

When Jack finally made his move the night before, quietly escorting her from Dot’s wedding all the way up to her bedroom, Phryne had known how he felt. She’d felt it too. But whispered words in the dark were different than seeing them in the clear light of day. The simple, domestic nature of the letter tugged at her heart and she suddenly saw a future that she had never expected, even with him. 

She noticed the newspaper he'd tossed quickly on the bedside table and the mental image of him reading it in bed made her grin. She'd never pictured him for a lazy morning. Skimming through the headlines, she wondered what might have caught his attention. Nothing scandalous leapt from the page but she didn’t know the details. If he were going to be out of touch for a few days, she assumed he was going undercover, or possibly traveling? She hoped it wasn't too dangerous. 

“Breakfast, Miss.” 

“Oh, perfect timing as always, Mr. B.” She smiled as he set the tray down. 

“The Inspector thought you might want to sleep in given the festivities yesterday.” 

“Did he get breakfast before he left?” She inquired as she buttered a piece of toast. 

“I believe he managed some bites as he made his telephone calls but I sent a thermos of tea with him just in case.” 

“You’re a good man, Mr. Butler.” She saluted him with her toast before noticing a letter on the side of her tray. 

Max Morgan? 

“That arrived by courier this morning, Miss. The sender wanted you to see it right away.” Mr. Butler responded as he paused, unsure if she had other questions. 

“Thank you. That will be all, Mr. B.” She dismissed him as she tore open the letter carefully. 

Max had been an old friend, in every sense of the phrase, from her younger, more rebellious English days. They had spent a few nights together before she left for the war. She remembered him as being a reckless teenager, trying to catch every experience before he was sent off to fight. She wondered what he was like as an adult now. His family was extremely wealthy and in mining, which would explain his presence in the country but she couldn’t help but assume that the charm he had as a child had most likely progressed to arrogance. 

She read his words carefully, wanting to parse them for details of the man she'd never known. Apparently, he had seen her picture in the newspaper with Jack and had been delighted to see her face for the first time in over a decade. He wondered if she might join him for dinner some evening soon. He was scheduled to head back to England in a few weeks. 

Phryne paused to consider her options. Max clearly assumed she was with Jack, so she had to guess his intentions were honorable, or at least, could be easily dissuaded if they weren't. And Jack _was_ busy for the next few days. A simple dinner with an old friend wouldn’t be remiss. She could always leave if it turned out Max was unbearable. Curiosity getting the best of her, she made a mental note to reply. 

OOOOO

Jack twisted his neck as he tried to get comfortable. He was getting too old to be doing car stakeouts. They’d gotten a report of his suspect entering this restaurant an hour ago from an off-duty constable who was eating with his family. He’d reported that Morgan was with a woman, which sent Jack flying over with a speed that even Phryne would admire, but there had been absolutely no sign of the man thus far.

Just thinking of her in passing distracted him. God, he would have preferred to be beside her when she woke up, to see the color of her eyes when she opened them for the first time that day, to wake her up with his lips on her warm skin. He wondered if it would flush the way it did when she was aroused…

Robinson. 

Focus. 

Phryne knew better than anyone why their work dominated their lives. If their situations were reversed, she would have left him stranded in bed as well, most likely without a note, and she would definitely be able to compartmentalize while she was on the job.

The door to the restaurant finally opened and Jack did a double take. Was his love-soaked mind playing tricks on him or had Phryne Fisher just walked out of the restaurant with Max Morgan, Jack's number one suspect for the most wanted mass murderer in the Southern Hemisphere?

His reeling brain tried to make sense of what he was seeing, but there were too many unanswered questions. Was she working the same case and hadn’t told him about it? Would she go out alone with someone suspected of mass murder? She fit in with the other victims perfectly but even he had to believe that she wasn’t that careless. 

That left the alternative, which bothered Jack even more. Was she actually, honestly out on the town with him? Did she plan to go home with him? 

How does one proceed on a stakeout when the woman you've just confessed your love for is wrapped in the arms of the very man you're meant to be following?

Phryne, of course, being a detective herself, felt Jack's watchful eyes on her immediately and she turned her head to see who was giving her too much attention. 

“Damn it.” He whispered, ducking low, but knowing it was no use. She knew his car as well as he did. 

Unfortunately, Morgan also caught Phryne's stare and turned to see what had captured her attention. 

“Oh. Nice of you to join us, Inspector.” He called towards the car. “I had a feeling you might show up tonight.” 

Jack sat up and watched in frozen fear as Phryne stared at Morgan in confusion as he produced a switchblade from his trouser pocket. The same switchblade Jack had been hunting for the last five years.

“Max, what are you…?” Phryne was pulled against him before she knew what was happening. Jack watched as the knife blade came up to her pale, delicate throat. He could easily read that she was taken by surprise. She definitely wasn't on a case. 

“Put the knife down, Mr. Morgan.” Jack replied, calmly getting out of the car but never lowering his gun.

“Phryne, be a dear and tell your friend to go home before I have to slit your throat in front of him.” He whispered politely in her ear.

Jack fought the images flooding his brain of socialites in evening gowns, their throats slashed and bodies mutilated, photographs that he had stacked on his desk at that very moment. Phryne’s delicate skin, which he had just examined so carefully a few nights before, inserted itself into his brain far too easily for his liking. 

“Jack, don't be stupid.” Phryne warned, following Morgan's orders but only superficially. Jack got the impression that she was double talking; she wanted him to take the shot. He took a few more steps towards them, testing his limits.

“Blood stains the pavement, Inspector.” Morgan warned, pressing the knife deeper against Phryne’s throat, drawing a bit of blood.

Jack stopped and raised his hands at the sight of even her smallest wince of pain.

“Max, why are you doing this?” Phryne asked, playing convincingly at being an oblivious victim, but Jack knew better. She had caught up and was now trying to be underestimated.

“I read the papers. Imagine my surprise when I saw that you two were...  _ playing tennis _ together. It was all too easy. I finally had a way to get the Inspector here off my case and torture him all at the same time. Finding his own lover’s body next? How delicious. And with someone I had already had in bed? I didn’t even have to try like with all those other girls.” 

“What other girls?” Phryne asked, her eyes on Jack.

“He’s murdered four women in Europe and three more here in Australia.” Jack replied. 

“About to be an even score if you don’t drop that gun, Inspector.” Max threatened.

Jack saw he was serious and lowered his weapon, dropping it to the pavement with care.

“You’re free to go, Max. I’m not going to stop you.” He replied. “Just leave Miss Fisher behind.”

“I don’t know that I will.” He said as he gripped her tighter. “You know how much I love the ladies. This one was quite feisty in bed if I remember correctly. Had some fight in her. Is that still the case, Inspector?” He taunted, wanting a reaction, but Jack was too busy watching Phryne. “I do hope she’ll struggle.” He smiled sickly, loosening his grip slightly to stroke an uninvited hand up her thigh.

Phryne took her opportunity as soon as she was able, twisting expertly out of Max’s hold and throwing him against the wall of the restaurant, his knife scattering to the pavement. 

Jack picked up his gun and was against Morgan in an instant, his revolver pressed intimately to his spine. 

“You picked the wrong socialite, mate.” Jack said sarcastically. He nodded to Phryne to get her attention. “Handcuffs." He instructed and she reached into his pocket and retrieved them.  Jack placed them on Morgan as quickly as he could while holding a gun to him. "Go inside and tell them to call the station.” She hesitated briefly but then nodded and strode inside, trying too hard to look strong considering the circumstances. She was not going to let Morgan see her shake. 

Jack turned his attention back to Morgan and began listing the reasons for his arrest.

“We’re the same, you and I.” Max replied quietly over Jack's rote recitation. “Attracted to the same women, addicted to the same power. To hold a weapon in your hand and know that you can take a person’s life if you like. Does it make you feel godly too, Jack?” He asked as he pressed himself against Jack's gun to prove his point. 

Jack talked over him, even as the words Morgan spewed crept under his skin. Sirens were coming down the hill. 

“I’m going to keep doing it, you know. I won’t stop. The rush of blood as it flows out of them, the life escaping their eyes, it’s better than...”

“Quiet.” Jack whispered, pressing his gun impossibly further into the man’s back. “You’re going to hang, just like you deserve. I won’t make this quick for you.”

“Oh, I’ll get out.” He smiled the smile of only the truly privileged, those who were completely immune from consequence. It sent a chill down Jack's spine to think of him back on the street. “And when I do, I’m going to take my time with her, Jack. I want to break her. How long do you think it will take? A day? Two? Six? Ooh, I think the torture will be even more fun than killing her.” He chuckled as another officer finally appeared to haul him off to jail.

Jack took a few deep breaths before seeking out what happened to Phryne. He glanced up and spotted her through the plate glass window, surrounded by concerned patrons and staff. She was holding a handkerchief to her throat. She made eye contact with him briefly before he was interrupted by another officer. He gave him instructions to get her statement and he went off to give his own.

By the time Jack finally made his way back to the motorcar, Phryne was waiting beside it, wearing another officer’s jacket. 

“Jack, I’m so sorry.” The words fell from her mouth as soon as she saw him. He took a deep breath before he opened his car door, trying to calm down but it was no use. He could barely look her in the eye right now.

“Are you hurt?” He asked her, getting the essentials out of the way.

“No.” She shook her head. “Just a scratch.”

“Then get in. I’ll take you home.” He commented quietly, still standing behind the safety of the car door. He needed something between them or he might forget his fear and rage, might let her fall into his arms and hold her all night long. 

“Jack?” She was choking back tears. 

“Phryne, not tonight.” He whispered his exhausted warning. “For a thousand reasons, I can’t talk about this tonight.” 

Phryne nodded and stopped momentarily, clearly wanting to avoid pushing him over the edge. But of course, she had to continue, she couldn’t help herself.

“If I had known…”

“God damn it, Phryne, I said no.” Jack raised his voice as his hand reached out to slam his car door shut. But from the corner of her eye, Phryne only saw Jack’s hand stretching out before her and she flinched, tucking her chin into her shoulder with practiced ease as the slam of the door echoed in the now quiet street. 

Jack’s entire body tensed as he saw her bracing for what it was. He took a staggered step back, as if to protect her from himself.

Phryne looked as shocked as he was by the reflex.

“Jack.” She took a step forward, trying to rectify her mistake, but he took another step back from her in kind. “No. I didn’t...I don't...”

“I’m sorry, I…” He didn’t know what to do. “I... I should just go.” He said as he opened his car door quickly again and got inside. 

“Jack, stop. Please?” Phryne begged but he didn’t listen. He turned the car over and was off, leaving Phryne standing on the sidewalk, arms wrapped around her own torso.


	2. Chapter 2

Jack knew he didn't have a reason to stay.

Paperwork was filed, reports were given, and Morgan had been all too happy to take credit for his crimes, comforted by his ego and his fortune. But Jack was going to make certain that they wouldn't save him this time. He had his own comforts and the immediate response from Russell Street was one of them. Still, the thought of leaving Morgan to the protection of others, even prison guards, gave him pause. Jack had seen enough corruption rear its ugly head to want a swift and decisive verdict. 

"Go home, Robbo." A fellow Detective Inspector slapped him on the back. "You've done your fair share for the day. Get some rest, eh?" 

Jack simply nodded and glanced at the front door one more time. 

There was another reason he didn't want to leave. 

If he walked out of here, the professional part of his brain would be forced to give way to the personal. The tidiness of the rule book would be thrown aside for the murky unknowns of whatever new world he had stepped into last night. 

He had frightened her. 

No, fright would have been better. He could have dealt with fright. Instead, she had appeared calm. The look of expectation on her face, the resignation to whatever would happen next, churned his stomach. 

He knew from passing anecdotes that her childhood had not been without violence, and DuBois's brief appearance in their lives had more than hinted at a violent relationship, but no matter what he knew about her past, Jack could never paint Phryne Fisher as a victim. She was always so strong. She made it easy to forget that that level of strength took a lifetime of horror to achieve. 

Jack had not reacted any better to their situation. He normally coped by retreating to gather his thoughts. He preferred to sort out things internally so he could present a logical argument or conclusion without losing reason in the moment. But in the absence of that possibility, he'd uncharacteristically snapped at her (which would have made him feel guilty enough) but to feel like he was spiraling out of control already and then to see her reaction to it be so extreme, Jack had panicked. His only instinct had been to remove any presumed threat to her, even if that threat was himself. 

He knew full well that he could have just as easily lost her; one wrong move and she could have been another photograph in his case file. He should have moved towards her, not away. He should have wrapped her up in his arms, taken her home, and cared for her. Instead, he left her standing on the pavement alone when she needed him most. 

Jack only hoped it wasn't too late to make it right. 

OOOOO

Phryne was still in bed as the clock struck noon, thankful that sweet, naive Dot was still on her honeymoon for the next few days and unable to witness this particular level of heartache. Phryne was going to need at least that amount of time to work up the energy to pretend that she was fine. Mr. Butler, being older and wiser, knew to watch her carefully from a distance, and she was grateful for his constantly admirable discretion.

She couldn't help but think that, even though he was the problem, Jack would know exactly what to say to make her feel better.

Looking back, she knew that she had fallen in love with him long before she had been willing to name it. She clung to him during the Murdoch Foyle case, and even all the way up to her father’s latest escapades. Noble, solid, steady Jack. He always knew what she needed, even when she didn't know herself. And now, one moment of misunderstanding might very well be the end of them before they even started.

Hadn't she always prided herself on her ability to read people? What sort of detective was she to get into such a dangerous situation and not see it coming?

She absentmindedly touched her neck where a small scab was already forming over her wound. It wouldn’t even leave a scar but she would never forget it. She remembered all the injuries inflicted on her, although, she never expected them to rise so instinctively to the surface. Her body had reacted without a single thought and it had shaken her to her core. Would she ever truly move on or would her body continue to betray her at the slightest scare? And even if her adrenaline-riddled brain couldn’t differentiate between Jack and an abuser in the heat of the moment, how could Jack think consider himself to be a threat to her safety? She trusted him more than anyone else in her life. 

She wished she could just tell him her side of the story, make him see how she truly felt about him. Finding him, however, was another issue entirely. She’d sent a message to City South to let him know that she would be home all day if he needed her testimony for any reason. The officer had claimed he wasn’t in, but that he would pass along the message. Phryne didn’t entirely believe him. She’d tried phoning him at home but there was no response there either.

She had all but given up hope of finding him when a familiar knock reverberated against her bedroom door. She closed her eyes as her heart soared into her throat.

“Yes?” She called out, not daring to say the name on her tongue. 

Jack opened the door slowly. 

"May I come in?" He asked hesitantly, not wanting to disturb her. Then again, she was in her pajamas with red-rimmed eyes at noon. Disturbed was relative. 

She nodded her head emphatically as she stood up, unable to voice her desire for fear of losing control on the tears she was attempting to keep at bay. He looked exhausted, the deep bags under his eyes signaling his lack of sleep over the last few days. He swallowed as he took her in, apparently feeling just as guilty for her appearance as she felt for his.  

"I'm so sorry." He declared simply with a shrug

"I'm sorry." She blurted out in unison before throwing her arms around his neck. 

"I should have never left you like that." He murmured in her hair. 

"I should have never been out with that monster in the first place." 

"You didn't know." He excused. 

"Still, Jack, if you hadn't been there..." She considered the worst as she rested her forehead against his. 

“Shh.” He begged as he closed his eyes. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.” He reminded them both. She ran her hands over his stubbled cheeks, just holding his head in place against hers. 

"You look terrible." She whispered, half-teasing, half-concerned. He scoffed a little at the judgment given her current state. "When was the last time you slept, or showered, or ate?" She asked. 

"I don't know." He muttered honestly. 

“Then come to bed.” She requested quietly as she made to undress him but Jack placed his hands gently over hers, stopping her.

“Phryne.” He requested and she looked up at him. “Why _were_ you there with him?” Jack asked, needing to know. Truthfully, she had expected the question. 

“Max was someone I knew from England, before the war. It was true that he wrote to me after seeing our picture in the newspaper together, he invited me to dinner to get reacquainted." She paused. "I thought he was just another social call, contacting whoever he knew was in the city." She said honestly.

There was a long pause, but Phryne waited him out. 

“I know this sounds absurd," Jack acknowledged, "but God help me, I have to know. Were you planning on sleeping with him?” He asked quietly. 

“What? No, of course not.” She furrowed her brows. 

"We never discussed..."

“Jack,” she shook her head, "you made your feelings on that subject perfectly clear while my father was here. And even if you hadn’t, I have no interest in taking anyone else to bed so there's no need to ever wonder. The answer will always be no.” She closed the topic definitively.

Jack looked at her with an exhausted sigh.

“Of all the people to know, you have to pick the one who wants to mentally torture us both?” 

“Mass murderers love me, you know that.” She tried to tease but Jack just held her closer to him, not ready to find the humor in their situation.

“He’s going to try again.” Jack warned.

“I know.” She murmured. “And we will deal with it when he does, just like we always do.” She pulled away. “But for now, you have to stop torturing yourself with maybes and take care of yourself." She tugged at his hands, luring him closer to her bed. "You'll feel so much better after you sleep."  

“I honestly don’t think I can.” He murmured. “Every time I close my eyes, I see those women. You. Both.”

“Jack.” She murmured sympathetically and he placed his forehead on her pale shoulder and inhaled, trying to clear his brain. “Don’t let him win.” She whispered as she stroked the back of his head softly.

He sighed, knowing she was right.

She kissed his ear, the only flesh available to her and he smiled as he raised his head.

“Let you win instead?” He countered.

“It’s much more fun.” She promised as she played with the top button of his waistcoat. “I have all sorts of clever ways to help you clear your mind.”

“Another time.” He replied. “For now, let’s try starting with a pillow.” He suggested.

"There's a reasonable man." She grinned in victory. 

OOOOO

Jack woke slowly, a warm sensation stirring him from his sleep. It took him a few seconds to realize it was Phryne's breath in his ear. 

"Time to wake up, Jack." She hummed once more before kissing his shoulder. "Dinner is almost ready." 

"Mm." He moaned, not quite ready to leave the comfort of her bed, even for his first warm meal in days. 

"Mr. Butler roasted a chicken." She tempted him. "Potatoes, vegetables, fresh warm bread." She punctuated each word as her fingertips walked up his arm to his shoulder. 

Jack finally rolled on to his back so he could see her properly. She was fresh out of the bath, still in a silk robe and smelling heavenly of a perfume he couldn't place.  

"And for dessert?" He inquired groggily, a teasing smirk in place. She leaned in as close as she could.

"Yes." She answered the unspoken question before brushing her lips against his without ever really making contact. 

Jack grabbed her by the waist and pulled her over top of him and down to the other side of the mattress. She giggled at the playful action as he looked down on her, questioning what he might do with her next. 

"You are in desperate need of a shave." She ran a finger along his jaw. "Mr. Butler picked up some essentials for you. They're in the bathroom."

"That was very kind of him."

"He wants you to be comfortable here so you stay more." 

"Does he?" 

"Mmhm." She nodded innocently. 

"And as head of the household, what do you think of that arrangement?" He asked. 

"I suppose I wouldn't mind." She replied casually. 

"No?" He nudged her nose with his. 

She shook her head slowly and he couldn't resist finally closing the distance between them and kissing her properly for the first time in days. She melted like butter at his touch and it took everything Jack had to pull away from her. 

"Bath, razor, meal, Phryne." He muttered to himself and she grinned at the forced prioritization. 

"Mm, but for me that's Naked Jack, Smooth Jack, Jack tasting of wine, Jack inside me." She countered with an esurient moan as she wriggled underneath him, trying to stave off her own desire. 

"Phryne." Jack groaned in protest at the temptation. 

"Go." She gently pushed him backward by his chest. "Wash up. Shave. I'll meet you downstairs. Mr. Butler will have everything ready and waiting." 

Jack nodded, feeling more motivated than he had in years. He grabbed his freshly laundered clothes (that man truly was a miracle worker) and headed for the bathroom.

"And Jack?" His feet stopped at her command and he turned around. "Hurry." She begged. 


End file.
